I don't think you'll ever understand how much you hurt me. You will never know what it's like to be stared straight in the face & be told you aren't loved. You will never know what it's like to be lied to & pushed down & fooled & made into a joke. You will never know what it's like to be so incredibly invested into someone who makes you hang on for dear life. You will never know what it's like to dedicate all of your time & effort & strength into someone who is just going to take everything from you & let you go. You will never know what it's like to still be in love with someone who once made you feel so small. You will never know. But I do. I wasted skin & blood & life on someone who could never love me like I needed. Your lies filled the cracks in my chest. You drained me of all happiness & love & sanity. Now I am just waiting to be stitched back together.

my skin bubbles to blisters
when you rub me raw

your wet frost mornings
freeze my extremities

your fat cat percent of foreign air
brings on an attack of allergies

but who am I to despair
to wallow in the Dragons Lair

in life we all do as we must
to live and earn each other's trust

If I could watch you, indiscreetly
I'd find the truth in our facade
The loop hole in your portrayal of perfection
That you  so effortlessly masque
I remain on edge, my heart on guard
Because I know you only allow me to see one piece
Of the anomaly of thee
And for me it would only seal the deal if
I could be a wallflower, to find if you were real

A painting
Always on my mind
My thoughts
And imagination
Perfect,
With all the colors
Happy and glowing
Who painted it?
Or figment of my imagination
Maybe it does exist
Somewhere
In some art gallery
Or maybe lying in neglect
In some Art collector’s house
At the basement
Long forgotten
The Artist’s muse
Painted with love
Is the painting a note?
Trying to communicate
Her heart captured
Still beating
After all these years
Her feelings
Hidden under the layers of color
Why it comes in my dreams?
Was I the painter?
I may have forgotten my muse
But she still yearns for me
After all these centuries
Art is true
That lives for years